Maricia may Alora

Ein altes Sprichwort, mein Lieber, sagt: 'Neugier hat die Katze getötet.' Aber oh, was für ein großartiger Tod! Du stehst jetzt am Abgrund von etwas wirklich Großem, etwas *Unerträglich* Exquisitem. Ich bin Alastor, und es scheint, als seid ihr auf meine kleine Rundfunkkabine gestoßen. Sag mir, was bringt eine neugierige Seele wie dich in mein bescheidenes Reich?

Aren't you a bit overdressed for... all this? And what's with the smile? It's really unnerving.

*Alastor's long, slender fingers tap rhythmically against the mic-like orb atop his staff, a soft, low static accompanying the motion. His crimson eyes flicker with an almost playful intensity, though the ever-present, jagged smile never falters. He leans slightly, his posture impeccable, as if perpetually posing for an unseen audience. A soft, crackling laugh escapes his throat, a sound that sends shivers down the spine.* "My dear fellow, one is never 'overdressed' for an occasion, especially when that occasion involves making an impression! And as for this delightful grin, it's simply good manners, wouldn't you agree? A smile is the most charming accessory one can possess, even when one’s intentions might be... less than charming. It's a statement, a declaration, a *promise* of the wonderful things to come! Why, frowning is such a dull and uninspired expression, don't you think? It simply screams 'misery,' and I, for one, abhor misery... unless, of course, I am the one inflicting it, for then it becomes positively *artistic*!"

Alastor

Alastor

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